


Joe's New World

by chains_archivist



Category: Hardy Boys - Franklin W. Dixon
Genre: Boys in Chains, M/M, Prison, Rape, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 21:43:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3544847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by hbwgonnabe</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).

Blond-headed, blue-eyed, six foot, seventeen-year-old Joe Hardy looked out of the second story window on the house located at the corner of High and Elm Streets. The rain had settled down to a light drizzle and the darkness which had arrived with the earlier storm had faded into night. Joe gave a sigh and let the curtain slide from his hand and close in front of him.

"Do you have to go out tonight?" Joe asked Frank for the fifth time in twenty minutes. "It's nasty out. Surely, Callie wouldn't mind if you canceled tonight?"

Brown-headed, brown-eyed Frank looked across the room at his year younger and inch shorter brother. "Would you just chill already?" Frank demanded in exapseration. "It's just a little rain," he said. "And I really doubt Callie would understand if I canceled because I didn't want to get wet."

Frank looked at the frown on Joe's face. "What is with you anyway?" he demanded. "Just because Vanessa went with mom to Los Angeles to see Sarah Darnnel and her daughter, I am supposed to stay home and be bored too?"

Sarah Darnnel had been a good friend of their mother's, and her daughter had become close to Vanessa right before Mr. Darnnel had been transferred to LA a few months ago. Mr. Darnnel had died in a car wreck the day before and when their mother had decided to go and see her friend, Joe's girlfriend, Vanessa Bender, had asked to join her.

"We could play chess?" Joe suggested, knowing Frank loved it even though, he, himself, didn't care for the game.

"I'm going," Frank said. "Look, if you are lonely, have dad play a game of trivial pursuit with you or something."

"It's not that," Joe said.

"Then what?" Frank demanded.

"Did you ever get the feeling that something was going to happen that would change your whole life and not for the good?" Joe asked, his blue eyes looking into Frank's with a hint of worry.

"Relax, bro," Frank said, coming over and putting an arm around Joe's shoulders. "It's just this dreary weather messing with your mind."

"Are you sure?" Joe asked, not believing him.

"I promise," Frank said, giving his shoulders a tight, comforting squeeze before letting go. "Look, just go to bed and get some sleep. When you wake up, the sun will be shining and this feeling of forboding will be ancient history."

"You're probably right," Joe said with a little laugh. "Have fun tonight," he said as Frank left the room with a small wave.

From the window, Joe watched Frank get into the van and drive away. He gave a sigh and let the curtain close again before going in search of his father.

A former police officer with the New York City police department, brown- eyed, brown-haired, Fenton Hardy had retired when his sons were younger to start his own detective agency. Joe stopped at the doorway of the room his father had converted into an office and rapped lightly on the open door.

Fenton looked up and gave a smile when he saw his youngest son standing there. "What's up?" he asked.

"That's what I was going to ask you," Joe said. "You have been buried in here for hours."

Fenton gave a sigh and shook his head wearily as Joe came inside and sat down in a chair in front of his dad's desk. "I have been asked to find a serial killer who, for the past month has been raping and killing teenage males," he told Joe.

"Can I help?" Joe asked, hopefully.

"NO!" Fenton jumped to his feet and shouted harshly, surprising Joe with his vehemence.

"Dad?" Joe asked, worried.

"I...I'm sorry," Fenton said, looking repentant. "You can't help this time," he said. "Promise you'll stay away from this one," he demanded.

"Dad, why..." Joe tried to ask, but his dad interuppted him.

"Promise!" he ordered, his brown eyes stern and his expression set.

"Fine," Joe agreed. "I promise. But can't you at least tell me why?"

Fenton sat back down and looked at Joe. "The killer seems to be choosing his victims by their appearance. All of his victims have had blond hair, blue eyes, either sixteen or seventeen years of age, and play on at least two athletic teams in high school."

"Oh," Joe said, swallowing nervously.

"So far, three boys have been viciously raped and murdered at Southport High School and four more from Melview High School. After the first attack at Melview, I was asked to look into the matter. So far, I haven't come up with anything."

"Nothing?" Joe demanded. "There haven't been any witnesses or clues?"

"Forensics at the Southport Police Department have been able to confirm the man is black with black hair. But that's it," Fenton said. "That information was uncovered by scraping the fingernails of the victims."

"Well, I see why you don't want me helping out," Joe said, his voice a little sick becasue he knew he matched the description of the other victims.

"Why don't you go on to bed?" Fenton suggested. "A long night's sleep should help you feel better."

"I feel fine," Joe said, looking into his father's eyes.

"Maybe," Fenton said, smiling. "But you look a little down," he added. "Go on and get some rest. I won't be going anywhere until tomorrow," he promised.

Joe nodded and left the room. He went back to his own bedroom and took off his clothes and went into the bathroom. He turned on the water and climbed in the shower. He grabbed the sponge and poured on the liquid soap. As he rubbed his skin, the soap made a lather and he slowly rubbed it over his entire body. He closed his eyes as he stepped up to the spray and let the water rinse the lather off. He grabbed the shampoo and washed his hair before shutting off the water and stepping out.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and took another to dry his hair with. He quit after a minute and let the towel lay around his neck as he grabbed his toothbrush and brushed his teeth. When he had finished, he tossed both towels into the hamper and returned to his bedroom and opened the top drawer of the chest. He pulled out a pair of pajamas and slipped into them.

Picking up his dirty clothes, he emptied the pockets and dropped the contents onto the chest. Then he went into the bathroom and put the clothes into the hamper. Going back to his bedroom, he turned off the light and climbed into bed. In a few minutes, he was sound asleep.

Joe was riding a horse inside of a paddock. He threw back his head, enjoying the breeze when a rope was thrown around his neck and he was pulled from the horse onto the hard ground. Joe gasped for air and his eyes flew open.

The rope was a hand which was clamped tightly around his throat, cutting off his air. Joe reached up and grasped at the hand, trying desperately to pull it away as he looked in fear at the dark stranger which had invaded his bedroom.

As Joe pulled on the man's hand, the man laughed and ran his other hand along Joe's cheek. "Shh!" the man said. "Stop struggling kid. We are going to have some fun before you die."

Joe's eyes grew even wider as he struggled harder. The man released Joe's throat and stood up, hauling Joe to his feet. "Dad! Help!" Joe screamed as loudly as he could after taking a quick gulp of air.

The man laughed heartily. "Want Daddy?" he asked. "That's good, 'cause guess who we are going to see right now?"

"What?" Joe asked, his eyes darting around, seeking a means of escape from this man who outweighed him by at least sixty pounds and every inch of the weight, muscle.

"Why, sweetie," the man whispered into Joe's ear. "I would never have come to Bayport if I hadn't found out your old man was after me. And then when I found out he had such a delectable son, well, how could I stay away?"


	2. Chapter 2

He grasped Joe's shoulder in a vise-like grip and steered Joe out of his room and down the hall to his parents bedroom. Joe saw his father, bound hand and foot, to the chair he had been sitting in earlier that evening. His right cheek had the beginning of a nasty bruise and his mouth held part of a red bandana which wrapped his head and was tied in back.

"Didn't want daddy to miss out on the fun," Joe's attacker said, pushing him inside the room.

"What do you want?" Joe whispered, his throat still not recovered from the near choking in his own room.

"Why, I want your dad to see what happens when he crosses my path," the man replied in a friendly tone, ruffling Joe's hair. He looked at Fenton. "This is all your fault you know?" he asked. "If you had stayed away from me, I never would have come to Bayport."

Grabbing Joe's chin, he dragged Joe until he was standing right in front of his father and forced his face to within an inch of his dad's. "Take a good look at him," Curly ordered, for apart from his massive appearance, the tight black curls on his head stood out in the minds of all who saw him.

Curly knelt down by Fenton, still holding Joe's chin. "This is the last time you're going to see the childish innocence lurking there," he whispered into Fenton's ear, sending a chill of terror down Fenton's spine.

Curly stood and pulled Joe away, shoving him roughly to the bed. Joe rolled over and tried to get up on the other side, but his attacker grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"No," Joe snarled, striking out with his right fist. The punch never connected as his attacker caught Joe's wrist in his huge hand.

"That's not how you play, Blondie," Joe was told. His other wrist was then imprisoned and both his hands were forced down on the bed above his head by one hand of his attacker. Curly used a finger on his other hand to trace an imaginary line from Joe's right ear down to his chin, then down his neck, stopping as it came into contact with the top of his pajama shirt.

"Looks like this is going to be a two-hand job after all," he said, staring into Joe's angry eyes. He reached inside his shirt and withdrew a switchblade. He flicked open the knife and repeated the movement his finger had made with the blade, careful not to pierce the skin.

"You can kick," Curly told Joe, licking the left side of Joe's face. "And hit," he said, then licked the right side. "You can even scream" he said, his nose now touching Joe's. "But if you bite me at any time, I'll cut off your dick and feed it to your dad. Understand, boy?" he demanded, his brown eyes cold and hard.

He saw the fear spring forth in Joe's eyes then covered Joe's mouth with his own. Forcing his tongue between Joe's lips and inside his mouth, he ran his tongue over each of Joe's teeth, then fought a war with Joe's tongue before going as far back as his tongue could reach. When the assault was over and he finally moved away from Joe's mouth, Joe gulped in air as Curly leaned his lips against Joe's ear.

Breathing heavily, Curly said, "You follow directions real well, boy."

He looked over at Fenton and smiled. "It's a good thing you had his tonsils removed," he told him. Then looked back into Joe's terror filled eyes. "It cuts down on the gag reflex."

Joe had no idea what Curly was talking about, but from the muffled shouts emanating from his father's throat, he knew he wasn't going to like finding out.

Curly shut the blade and tucked the knife into his pants pocket. He then let Joe's wrists free and, using both hands, ripped Joe's shirt open, revealing his trembling chest and abdomen beneath.

"No!" Joe cried out, balling his hands into fists and pummeling Curly on the shoulder and chest. "Leave me alone!" Joe ordered.

Curly laughed at Joe's punitive efforts, then grasped Joe's throat again, forcing Joe to cease hitting him and try to remove the grip from his throat, becasue he could no longer breath.

Tears fell from the corner's of Joe's eyes, dribbling down into his ears as he realized the futility of loosening the grip. He let his hands fall and waited for what was going to happen next.

Curly eased his grip on Joe's throat, allowing him to breathe, but kept it tight enough to prevent Joe from moving his head.

Curly grinned at Joe, seeing the fear in his eyes as he reached down and fondled Joe's right nipple. He leaned down, squeezing Joe's throat tighter to warn against using his hands, then began sucking on the nipple he had been playing with.

"Please stop," Joe managed to whisper, loud enough for Curly to hear but Fenton, too far away, saw only Joe's lips move. More tears fell from Fenton's eyes as Curly bit Joe's nipple, causing him to wince in pain before giving Joe's left nipple the same treatment.

Curly bit Joe's left nipple, then began a series of butterfly kissies down to his navel. He began licking the indention and Joe, having gathered some of his strength, brought both hands up and clapped Curly hard on his ears.

Curly froze, his tongue in Joe's navel, and raised his eyes to Joe's chin which hung out over Curly's hand. He sat up and released Joe's throat. Joe's eyes, which had been busy blinking at the tears, grew wide with terror as he looked into Curly's.

"I told you, you could hit me," Curly siad softly. "But I must have negelected to mention the consequences of the action," he added, his lips curling into a nasty smile.

Joe began squirming, trying to shake Curly off of him, but to no avail. Curly laughed and backhanded Joe across the face.

Joe's face took on a dazed look as the bitter-sweet taste of blood filled his mouth. Before Joe could utter a sound, he receied a hard slap on his other cheek. The dazed look became set, his eyes seemingly fixed on something in the distance.

More muffled shouts erupted from Fenton as did much squirming as he tried in vain to loosen his bonds. Curly looked over at Fenton and said in cheery voice, "You wanted to know what I did to them before I killed them. Now, you're finding out."

Curly got off of Joe and pulled down his pajama bottom, along with the white briefs beneath. He tossed both items onto Fenton's lap. Looking into Fenton's eyes, he reached down and took Joe's member in his hand, rubbing his thumb up and down over the mallable flesh.

Joe groaned, his head jerking in protest. A whispered,"No," escaped his lips as he fought to focus on what was happening.

Curly bent over Joe's rod and placed the tip of it in his mouth, his lips closing tight around it as his tongue licked the smoothness of the circumsized head.

"No," Joe said again, becoming fully alert to his surroundings. He sat up and tried to push Curly away. Curly abruptly raised his head and grabbed Joe's hair, forcing his head back. He kissed Joe again, hard and long as before. When Joe's mouth was freed, he could feel the tender flesh around his lips beginning to swell.

Joe kicked out at Curly, aiming for his stomach, but Curly caught his foot and, releasing Joe's hair, grabbed Joe's leg and flipped him over onto his stomach.

"Very nice," Curly said softly, gazing at Joe's solid white, firm buttocks. He reached down and ran his masive hand over them, then brought back his hand. Smack! Curly's palm landed on Joe's rump. Joe emitted a strangled cry of pain. Curly licked his lips in delight and let loose with several rapid fire slaps. Joe's muffled cries of pain from where his face was smashed against the bed was the only noise vying with the sound of flesh striking flesh.

Curly quit only when the whitness was marred by several red imprints, all in the shape of a hand. He reached down and unsnapped his own pants. He unzipped them and let them fall to the floor around his ankles, revealing the large, dark cock which hung straight and ready, a drip of cum clinging to the tip.

Fenton struggled harder, his wrists already bleeding from rubbing the rope repeatedly. The sticky substance felt cool to his sore wrists but offered no measure of assistance in allowing him to work free.

Curly grabbed Joe's waist and pulled him nearer to the edge of the bed. When he had Joe hanging partially off the bed, he put his forefinger at the top of the crack which led to Joe's asshole and let his finger slide down. He pushed his finger inside, just a fraction and felt Joe's muscles constrict as he cried out.

"No, please stop! Please!" Joe begged with what little strength he still had left. Curly laughed as he pulled his finger out and laid the head of his own cock agains Joe's ass.


	3. Chapter 3

Frank stopped off at the door of his father's office and told him goodnight, not expecting to return home until around midnight. Then he went downstairs and out to the van.

He knew Joe was watching him from the window, but he refused to look up at him. Doing so might reinforce Joe's sense of unease and Frank did not want that to happen.

He climbed into he van and backed out of the drive. He passed a brown truck as he drove toward the stop sign at the end of the street. Frank looked both ways for oncoming traffic, failing to see the truck pull to a stop near his own home.

He made a left turn and took off for Callie's house. He had a strange sensation in his stomach and thought he must be hungry. He wondered if he could talk Callie into catching the late flick and eat first instead of the early flick as they had originally planned.

He was met at the door by Callie's mom who was on her way out to meet her husband at TGIFriday's. Frank went inside and sat down on the living room sofa to wait for Callie. She came down in a few minutes and Frank, watching her enter the room gave a low whistle of appreciation.

Seventeen-year-old, green-eyed, Callie Shaw wanted to be a news reporter even though she could easily have passed for a model. She wore nothing more dressy than a pair of tight fitting blue jeans and a lavender halter and her long blond hair had been French braided with the bottom swinging just below her waist. She was tall for a girl, five foot and eleven inches in flats, but she wore a small heel to make her even with Frank.

"You look good no matter what you wear," Frank told her, standing up and greeting her with a light kiss on the lips.

"Mmm, I bet you say that to all your girlfriends," she said, smiling at him.

"Considering I just did, yeah," Frank replied with a grin.

"So what movie are we going to see?" she asked.

"About that," Frank said, running a hand through his brown locks. "Would you mind terribly if we caught the late show and ate first?"

"Not at all," she agreed. "I'm kind of hungry too. And it is better to fill up on protein junk food than sugar junk food," she added, comparing a pizza to a candy bar.

"Great," Frank said, leading her out the door. She locked the door and they both got into the van. "Mr. Pizza?" he asked.

"You're reading my mind," she answered.

On the way they stopped at the newstand and picked up a newspaper to get the movie listings. "The only thing that looks good that we haven't seen is Flying Solo," Callie said. "It starts at nine."

"Sounds good to me," Frank agreed with the selection. He didn't really care about the movie, he just wanted to spend the evening with Callie.

They arrived at Mr. Pizza a few minutes later and entered the one story brick building. They saw some of their friends at their usual table near the back and went over to join them. "Hey guys, where's Joe?" asked eighteen- year-old Biff Hooper, an athletic blond with blue eyes. Most of the girls at Bayport High were torn between considering Joe or Biff the cutest guy on campus.

"He stayed home," Frank replied. "He misses Vanessa, I think."

"Pull up a seat," invited eighteen-year-old Tony Prito. Tony was small, wiry guy, with dark hair, dark eyes, and olive skin. His parents had immigrated to the states right before Tony had been born and opened Mr. Pizza. Tony was currently the manager of the restaurant.

"I thought you didn't have time to kick back and enjoy a slice with us," Callie commented as Tony pulled a slice of pepperoni pizza from the pan and stuck the tip in his mouth.

"I don't have time when I am working," Tony said. "But I'm on vacation, so to speak. Dad has given me a week off," he added.

"So, what are you two doing tonight?" asked Karen Black, Biff's black- haired, blue-eyed, date. Karen was seventeen and had started dating Biff only recently.

"We're going to go see Flying Solo," Callie replied, grabbing a slice of pizza from the pan.

"Don't bother," said seventeen-year-old, sandy-brown haired, Phil Cohen. He looked at Frank and Callie through serious brown eyes. "I saw it. What a waste of money."

"That bad?" Frank asked.

"And how," Tony agreed. He grinned. "I saw it with him."

"Well, there go our plans for the evening," Callie said.

"How about hitting the new juice bar?" Phil suggested. "Pete's Juice and Arcade," he clarified. "They have live music on the weekends and Westlife is playing tonight."

"Why not?" Karen agreed with a shrug.

"There doesn't seem to be anything else going on tonight," Callie agreed.

"Why don't you call Joe and see if he wants to go with us?" Phil suggested to Frank.

"I'll do that," Frank agreed. "It might get him out of the doldrums." Frank got up and went to the payphone near therir table. He had lost his appetite when he saw the pizza on the table, but his stomach still held the same strange feeling it had after he had left home. He shook his head. Joe's unease had rubbed off on him.

Frank put a call through to his home but received a recording telling him the phone had been disconnected. He tried again in case he had put in a wrong number. The same recording came through the receiver. Frowning, he walked back to the table.

"I can't get through," he said, a hint of worry evident in his brown eyes.

"The storm must have knocked out the line earlier," Phil said, seeing Frank's concern. "Why don't we just drive by and pick him up?"

Frank smiled at the suggestion and sat back down until the pizza had been finished. He threw some money in on the cost since his date had eaten some, and they all went outside. "No sense in taking all the cars," Frank said. "Let's all just go in the van and I'll drop you off back here afterwards."

They drove to the Hardy home and pulled to a stop in the driveway. Upstairs, Curly heard a car come to a stop and a door open. He went to the window, pulling Joe up and dragging him along.

"Blast it!" Curly snarled. He shoved Joe onto the bed and pulled up his pants. Fenton gave a sigh of relief which was short lived as Curly reached into his pocket and withdrew the knife.

Curly pulled Joe up again. "This isn't over, doll," he whispered into Joe's ear, not loud enough for Fenton to hear. "I'll be back," he promised. "I always finish what I start, and we have a lot of unfinished business," he added, causing Joe's white face to become a sickly shade of green.

Fenton watched Joe's pallor change, his stomach twisting in pain for his son. Joe didn't seem to be aware of the knife in Curly's hand, but he was. Fenton watched in horror as Curly flipped open the blade and brought it to Joe's navel.

"Just so you won't forget me," Curly said louder, then slashed at Joe's skin, causing a deep gouge from his navel to his side, so that the wound finished at his right hip.

Joe, already weakened by the abuse of the evening, didn't even utter a cry of pain as his face twisted in agony. Curly released Joe, letting him fall to the floor unconscious.


	4. Chapter 4

Frank unlocked the front door and went inside, followed by the others. No one was downstairs, so Frank left his friends in the living room and headed upstairs to Joe's room. He looked in and saw Joe's unmade bed, knowing Joe must have taken his advice and made an early night of it. Or, at least, had tried to. Frank looked in the bathroom which connected Joe's room to his own. The light was off and Joe wasn't there.

Frank headed toward his father's office. The door was open and the light was on. Inside, he found one chair missing and the other lying on it's side. Papers were strewn all over the floor. Dread filling him, he stepped out of the office.

He heard muffled sounds emanating from his parent's bedroom at the end of the hall and rushed down. There, he saw his father, brusied, sitting bound in a chair.

"Dad!" Fank shouted and rushed around the king size bed to get at his father. He came to a sudden halt, his eyes going wide as he almost stumbled over the prone figure of his naked, bleeding brother.

"Joe," Frank whispered, kneeling down beside his brother. All thoughts of his father gone from his mind. He felt Joe's neck for a pulse and felt a faint one as his friends, who had become alarmed at Frank's first shout, could be heard running up the steps. Biff came to a halt in the doorway as he saw Frank kneeling by the bed, tears streaming down his face while his father sat tied to a chair.

Phil looked behind him at the girls who had brought up the rear of the group and told them to call 911 as Biff slid over the bed to remove the gag from Fenton's mouth.

"Neighbor's," Fenton said hoarsely, his mouth was dry from trying to shout through the gag. "He cut the phone lines."

Callie and Karen took off at a run as Tony came inside the room. Frank pulled the bedspread off and covered his brother, applying pressure to the wound made by the knife.

"What happened?" Frank demanded, looking at Joe and pushing the hair from his face with his free hand. He had seen the brusies around Joe's mouth, the bite marks on his nipples and the fingerprints on his neck.

While Biff and Tony untied him,Fenton explained how he had been surprised in his office and knocked unconscious. When he had come to, he was tied to the chair. He then told how Joe had been forced into the room and what had happened to him, not divulging all the details, but relating enough so they knew the terror Joe had lived through.

"Why did you do it?" Frank asked, looking up into his father's eyes. "Why would you take a case where Joe could get hurt so badly?" he demanded. "Didn't you think this might happen?"

"I told Joe he couldn't help with this case," Fenton said in his own defense, although it sounded lame to him too. The fact was Joe had been asaulted and was dying from loss of blood and it was all his fault.

The girls came back saying the ambulance and the police were on their way. Phil and Tony ushered the girls downstairs. Biff remained with the Hardys. "I'll take everyone back to their cars and drop Callie at home," Biff offered as sirens were heard in the distance.

"Thanks," Frank said, reaching into his pocket and tossing him the keys to the van.

"I'll call you later and find out how Joe is doing," he said. Biff knew he wouldn't be allowed to see Joe tonight. He also had the strong suspicion that no one would be able to get Frank away from Joe for any length of time this evening. "If you need anything, call me," he said. Frank nodded.

"Would you stay until after the police leave and lock up?" Fenton asked Biff. "We're going to the hospital with Joe."

"Why don't you stay?" Frank asked his father bitterly. "Your job is so much more important."

Biff looked at Frank in surprise but knew he didn't mean what he was saying. He was just worried about Joe.

Fenton, however, already riddled with guilt, winced in pain at the accusation. "That isn't true," he said softly, still crying. "I would die before I let that bastard hurt your brother."

"And yet, he is hurt and you are still alive," Frank said, looking up into his father's eyes as the sirens came to a halt outside the house.

Unable to dispute the fact, Fenton remained quite until the paramedics arrived. He told them about Joe's near rape and being stabbed. They started to move him.

"Be careful," Fenton told him. "He spanked him hard on his backside."

Frank looked away from Joe and at his father again. "You didn't tell me that," he said. "What else have you left out?"

So, while Joe was being stabilized and placed onto a stretcher, Fenton told Frank every sordid detail about Joe's experience. Biff, along with Phil and Tony who had returned upstairs with the paramedics, were all too shocked to say anything.

"Will he be okay?" Frank asked one of the paramedics as they stood and started to take hold of the stretcher.

The woman, who had started crying for Joe while Fenton had talked, answered him. "The wound isn't too deep," she said. "But, I think he will need more help than he can get at the hospital," she added.

Frank nodded. He knew what she meant. After this ordeal, Joe would have to see a psychiatrist. He just prayed Joe would recover. He couldn't imagine Joe as worried and depressed as he had been earlier on a regular basis and knew it would be even worse now.

Fenton spoke with one of the officers who arrived and promised to file a report as soon as he knew Joe would be okay. He and Frank went to the hospital together, leaving amid muted tears and words of encouragement.

At the hospital, Joe was treated for the wound, taking thirty-nine stitches to close it. After a complete check-up and some blood work, to insure Joe had not contracted any diseases from the oral contact, he was placed in a room for the night.

Fenton and Frank were both there. Fenton kept trying to get Frank to talk to him, but Frank refused to answer. Afraid he would say something he didn't really mean like before. He knew his dad loved Joe. He knew he would always put family above any case, yet Joe had been horribly hurt, mentally and physically.

Frank was mad at himself too. Joe had told him he had a sense of something that was going to affect his whole world and yet, Frank had shrugged it off and left. Joe had always been more in tune with his surroundings. Hadn't Joe been the one the little ghost boy had gone to for help when they had gone on vacation last summer? Frank closed his eyes and cried more. It was his fault, not his dad's Joe had been hurt like this. If only he had taken Joe's fears more seriously.

The doctor came in and started to check Joe's vitals. Joe stirred slightly as the doctor checked his heartbeat. When he picked up Joe's wrist to check his pulse, Joe's eyes flew open.

Terror and fear filled Joe's blue eyes as they stared unseeingly at the doctor. He began crying and shaking his head, his lips moving, forming the words, "No, please, no, please." Yet no sound came from his mouth.

Fenton and Frank rushed over. Frank reached out to soothe and reassure Joe as the doctor backed away, but Joe reacted to the touch as if he had been struck, flinching and scrambling back, nearly falling off the other side of the bed to get away!


	5. Chapter 5

"Joe," Frank said urgently, trying to break through Joe's fear. "Joe, it's me, Frank. It's okay. You're safe now. I'm here. I won't leave you again. I promise. It's all over now."

Joe calmed down and looked up at Frank, seeing him for the first time since awaking. He leaned over and let Frank hold him. Joe grabbed Frank's shirt and cried silent tears, soaking Frank's shirt as Frank kept rocking him gently saying soothing words and rubbing his head comfortingly.

After a few minutes, Joe leaned back a bit. Frank eased Joe back onto the bed and stood up beside the bed. The doctor came forward and Joe's eyes widened in fear again.

"It's okay, Son." Fenton said, from Joe's other side. "This is Dr. Thompson. He just wants to check your pulse."

Joe looked at his dad, then back to the doctor. He sniffed and nodded hesitantly, reaching out and grabbing Frank's hand. The doctor picked up Joe's other wrist and took his pulse. "How are you feeling?" the doctor asked.

"My throat hurts," Joe whispered almost inaudibly.

The doctor pulled out a tongue depressor and asked Joe to open and say ahh. Joe did as he was told and the doctor looked inside Joe's mouth. "Your throat is probably sore from being constricted," he told Joe. "I suggest you try not to say anything for a few days and drink tea prepared with a teaspoon of honey. It should help ease the pain."

Joe nodded. "We'll get you a tablet so you can write down anything you want to say," Fenton told Joe, after the doctor had left the room.

"What..." Joe started to speak but Frank put a finger over Joe's lips so he couldn't continue.

"Tablet first," he said. "We don't want you to injure your throat permanently," he added in a worried tone.

"But..." Joe tried to speak again, his eyes worried as he looked at his dad.

"He got away," Fenton said, knowing what Joe was trying to ask. "Don't worry," he continued. "He won't get near you again. I am going to call in a favor with the FBI and have you put in a safehouse until this bastard is caught."

Joe shook his head. "Wouldn't feel safe there," Joe rasped. Frank graoned and left the room in search of a notepad.

Fenton stopped Joe from saying any more until Frank returned in a few minutes with some computer paper and a pen. "No notepad, but the nurse let me have this," he said and handed the paper and pen to Joe.

Joe took the paper and pen and scribbled down a message. Frank took the paper and read it aloud. "I wouldn't feel safe there. I want to stay with Frank." Frank looked at Joe. "Don't worry little brother, until this creep is caught, I am not leaving you alone even for a second."

Joe smiled at his brother but Fenton frowned. "Joe, you know how big and strong this guy is. Frank is a good fighter, but do you really think he could protect you?"

Joe frowned, looking down at his clasped hands and started trembling as he thought about what his father had said. He was right of course. If Joe couldn't fight him off then Frank didn't stand much of a chance either.

"Easy, Baby Bro," Frank said softly. "Chet, Biff, Phil, and Tony will help."

Joe scribbled down another note. "Tony has to work, but that would help," Fenton read the note aloud this time.

"Tony has the week off," Frank told him. Joe nodded and gave a wan smile.

Fenton pushed a stray lock of blond hair from Joe's eyes. "I am going to the police station to file a report about tonight," he said. "Then I am going to call and drop the case," he promised.

Joe's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, but Frank cleared his throat meaningfully and Joe ended up scribbling another note. "You can't do that," Frank read aloud the note. "If you drop the case, he won't get caught and he'll keep coming after me."

"If I drop the case, he will leave you alone," Fenton told Joe. "You heard him, the only reason he was here was becasue I took the case in the first place."

Joe started writing again, this times, tears began dripping down his cheeks. "Before he cut me, he said he would never leave me alone. He said that now that he had tasted me, he couldn't get enough. And that he wasn't going to kill me after he had finished like the others, he was going to find a place to take me and keep me forever," Frank read the note, his voice weakening as he spoke. "Oh, Joe," he said, sitting down on the bed beside Joe and hugging him.

Joe felt himself stiffen involuntarily as Frank touched him, but forced himself to relax. Frank felt the reaction and it made Frank hurt for Joe all that much more.

"He won't get you," Fenton promised his son in a voice heavy with emotion. "I'll get this bastard if it's the last thing I do," he vowed. He leaned down and kissed Joe's forehead lightly. Frank felt Joe stiffen again. "I'll be back in the morning," he promised.

Joe nodded and Frank pulled away from Joe and followed his father to the door. "About earlier," Frank began.

"You were right," Fenton replied. "This is my fault."

"No, it's not," Frank said. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," Fenton said, and gave Frank a big hug. "Take care of him," he told Frank and left the room.

Frank went back to Joe's side. "Why don't you get some rest?" he asked. Joe's eyes took on a fearful note. "What?" Frank asked. Joe scribbled a note, telling Frank about Curly's waking him up.

"You're safe now," Frank told him. "He isn't here and I am. I won't let him get near you," he promised. Joe nodded, but Frank could tell he was still unconvinced. He swallowed the lump in his throat, wondering if Joe would always be afraid of going to sleep now. "How about if I read to you?" Frank asked. "There are a couple of magazines in the hall." Joe looked up fearfully.

"I'm not leaving. I'll use the call button and have the nurse bring us one, okay?" Joe nodded.

A few minutes later, Frank sat in the chair by Joe's bed and read a story from the Reader's Digest they had been brought. Before long, Frank saw Joe drift off to sleep. He sat back and continued to read the story silently to himself.

Joe's eyes flew open in stark terror. A hand was gripping his throat. He looked up and saw Curly leering down at him. "You didn't think anyone could protect you, did you?" he laughed, moving a bit so Joe could see Frank.

Frank sat in the chair, his head to one side, his eyes wide open. Joe could see blood all over his shirt which had poured down from the deep wound which crossed Frank's neck.

"Too much trouble to tie him up," Curly whispered in Joe's ear. "Ready to start again?" he asked.

Joe began crying. "No, please, no, please, please," he moaned, trembling. Curly released Joe's neck and put both his huge hands on Joe's shoulders. "That's right," Curly said, starting to shake him. "Say please."

"Stop, please stop," Joe begged, as his shoulders were shaken harder.

"Joe! Joe, wake up," Frank's voice began to register in Joe's mind. "You're having a nightmare," he was saying. "Joe, come on, wake up," Frank's frantic voice came through.

Joe opened his eyes. He saw Frank's worried face through his tears and gave a muted shout as he threw himself in Frank's arms. Frank held Joe as he cried, uttering soothing words and rubbing his hair as a mother would a hurt child. Frank's own tears flowed as he held his terrified brother. Almost an hour later, both boys had cried themselves to sleep.

The nurse who checked in on Joe saw the two boys lying on the bed. It was against hospital policy for any but the patient to be on the bed, but under the circumstances, she had no intention of forcing Frank to get up. She closed the door and walked away.

The next morning, Fenton arrived at Joe's room and walked inside, to see Frank lying on the bed, Joe cuddled up on his chest. "Frank," Fenton whispered, leaning close to his eldest son. Joe's eyes flew open instead and he jumped back. "Easy, Son," Fenton told him as Frank now awoke. "It's okay."

"Dad," Frank said, sitting up.

Fenton say the puffy red eyes of both his son's and knew it had been a long night for them. "I got his name and a former address," Fenton said.

Joe looked up at his father hopefully. "I am going to go and check it out this morning after I drop you boys off at home," Fenton continued.

"I need to call the guys first," Frank said.

"I already have," Fenton said. "They are at home waiting on you. Your mother and Vanessa will be in some time this morning. Vanessa's car is at the airport so you won't have to worry about picking them up."

Frank nodded and looked over at Joe who was tugging on his sleeve. Joe pointed to the pen and paper. Frank smiled and handed them over.

"What's the guy's name? Where does he live? And how did you find out?" Frank read what Joe wrote.

"His name is Tom Silverman," Fenton said. "He lives in Melvile near the high school. He was a teacher until two months ago when his four year old son was raped and killed by one of his students."

"He was a teacher?" Frank repeated in disbelief.

"What about his son?" Joe scribbled for Fenton to read.

"The student, Craig Miller, a blond headed kid with blue eyes, had told Silverman he would be sorry for flunking him," Fenton related what he had been told. "He broke into Silverman's house one night and kidnapped his four year old son. The next day, the boy was found in Silverman's classroom, dead. He had been raped and beat to death."

"And they didn't know Silverman had snapped and was behind the attacks?" Frank asked.

"No," Fenton said. "At first, they thought Miller was responsible. No one could prove he was guilty, not even of the boy's murder. He died three days ago in a car crash."

"So Silverman is going around attacking guys who have the same basic features as Miller thinking they are Miller?" Frank asked.

"That is probably how it started," Fenton agreed. "Now, I think he may have totally flipped." He looked at his sons. "Whatever got him started, Silverman is now cerifiably insane. There is no telling what he is capable of. Be very, very careful."

Frank looked at Joe, who was again looking down at his hands. "I won't leave Joe alone for a minute," he promised.

"What is it?" Fenton asked Joe, when he kept looking at his hands. Joe glanced up at his dad, then scribbled something.

"I know I should feel sorry for him because of his son," Frank read as Joe wrote. "But I can't. Does that make me a bad person?"

"Of course not," Frank and Fenton said at the same time.

"Son, what happened to Silverman's son was terrible and what happened to Silverman because of it is really bad, but no one could blame you for not feeling sorry for him," Fenton said gently. "He hurt you in a way no one should ever have to be hurt. There isn't a soul alive who would feel sorry for him if they had been through at his hands what you have."

Joe still wasn't sure, but he nodded. Right now, he really wasn't sure of anything except that he was scared. But....a thought occurred to him and he wrote something down.

"Maybe he won't come back," Joe wrote. "If he is crazy, it isn't like he actually enjoys what he is doing."

"Maybe," Fenton agreed, swallowing the lump in his throat at the pleading look in Joe's eyes as Frank read the note. "Why don't you go and get dressed in the bathroom?" he suggested, holding out a bag he had brought from home with him.

Joe took the bag and looked inside. There were a pair of his jeans, a shirt, some underclothes and shoes. Joe smiled gratefully at his father and headed into the bathroom.

"You think he will come back," Frank said to his dad after Joe had gone.

"He quit being a vengeful father a long time ago," Fenton stated. "Now, I believe he has become what he appears to be, a man who rapes and kills for the joy of it."

"Why?" Frank asked.

"Because if he were still only doing this out of vengeance, then he never would have come to our house when he found out I had been put on the case," Fenton answered.

An hour later, Joe had been relesed and the three arrived at the Hardy house. They were met at the door by blond-headed, brown-eyed, Chet Morton. Seventeen-year-old Chet was one of the Hardy's oldest and best friends. Joe had dated his sister until she had been killed in a car bombing the previous year. Joe still felt guilty because the bomb had been in his car and meant for him and his brother.

"How you doing?" Chet asked in concern, seeing Joe's bruised face and slow gait.

"He isn't supposed to talk for a few days," Frank said. "His throat was hurt."

"Don't worry," Chet told Joe. "I'll go fix you some honey tea. That's what I always get when my throat is sore."

Joe smiled gratefully as Chet hurried into the kitchen to fix the tea.

"Hi guy," Biff said, as Joe came into the living room. Joe gave a wan smile at Biff and the other guys who stood to greet him.

"I'll see you boys later," Fenton said, having made sure Joe and Frank got safely inside with the others. He left as Chet returned with Joe's tea.

"Now, drink it all," Chet urged, handing it to Joe after he had sat down on the sofa. Joe took a timid sip from the cup. He wrinkled his nose. He hated tea. "Drink," ordered Chet. "It will help soothe your throat."

Joe gave Chet a beligerent look, but sipped more of the warm tea. Frank and the other boys all sat down and chatted about the weather, trying to think of something to say which wouldn't upset Joe. Joe finished his tea, grateful he had such good friends, but wishing they didn't feel so uncomfortable around him.

Joe took the pen and paper off the coffee table which his dad had left there before coming to pick them up this morning. He scribbled a note and handed it to Frank. Frank read the note and nodded. "Biff will you stay in Joe's room and I will go in mine. The rest of you guys can just hang around down here?"

"Sure," Biff agreed, standing up. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Frank said. "Joe just wants to take a shower."

"You don't need one," Chet said, looking at Joe.

Joe shrugged and picked scribbled another note which Frank read aloud. "I feel dirty."

"Onward and upward then," Biff said over the lump which had formed in his throat. He knew Joe felt dirty becasue of what that bastard had done to him.

Upstairs, Joe went into the bathroom and closed the door. He took off his clothes and looked at himself in the mirror. He was bruised and his side looked sore. He knew the shower was going to hurt and he knew he shouldn't take one with the stitches, but he felt so unclean. He opened the medicine cabinet and removed some bandages. He covered his stitches with the waterproof band-aids and put the two remaining ones back in the medicine cabinet.

He reached behind the shower curtain to turn on the water, but his wrist was grabbed by a hand which pulled him into the shower stall.


	6. Chapter 6

Silverman pulled Joe into the shower and grabbed Joe's throat again. "Did you really believe your friends could protect you?" Silverman asked Joe in a quiet voice.

Joe started shaking in fear as he felt Silverman's hot breath on his skin. He put up his hands to ward off his attacker, but Silverman squeezed Joe's throat tighter. "Stop fighting," he ordered Joe. "I'm not in the mood today," he added, reaching down and taking Joe's cock in his hand.

"It was real nice of you to undress for me," Silverman whispered in Joe's ear before sucking on his earlobe, his hand still rubbing Joe's dick. "You like this, don't you boy?" he asked Joe as his hand moved to encirle the round flesh beneath his dick. "You want more, don't you?"

"No," Joe mouthed, tears falling from his eyes. "Please don't do this," he begged inaudibly.

Silverman laughed softly and nuzzeled Joe's neck with his nose, bringing his hand around and rubbing Joe's posterior. He pushed his forefinger into Joe's ass. Joe's ass clinched and he gasped, his heart beat faster as his fear grew even stronger.

Joe raised his hands, formed fists, and started striking Silverman. Silverman rammed his finger even farther up Joe's ass. Joe gasped and grabbed on to Silverman's shoulders as the finger reached into untested territory.

"No biting," Silverman warned Joe as he twisted his finger inside of Joe. "You bite now or later, and I will kill your brother," he added, then covered Joe's mouth with his own. Joe tried to push back from Silverman's mouth but it only brought the finger further up his now sore ass. After what seemed like forever to Joe, Silverman lifted his mouth and leaned close to Joe's ear again.

"You want me to let your ass breath too?" Silverman asked him.

Joe gave a slight nod, for the hand gripping his throat was too tight for a big one.

"In order for me to leave your ass alone, you have to do something for me," Silverman whispered, rubbing the front of his jeans against Joe's bare cock and balls.

Joe looked questioningly at Silverman. He was filled with dread, but realized he really had no choice. He knew what would happen if he refused. Silverman would hurt, maybe even kill, Frank and then come back for him anyway.

"I want you down on your knees," Silverman told Joe. "I want you to suck my dick, make me hard. Lick it like it was ice cream, suck it like a baby drinking from it's momma's breasts. Hold me, pet me, cuddle my cock to your face and give it little kisses. And when I am hard and ready, you are going to swallow every drop that comes out of my rod," he ordered, looking into Joe's eyes.

Joe started crying anew as Silverman released Joe's throat and pulled his finger out of Joe's ass. Joe took a small step backward and felt the handles for the shower press into his back.

Without thinking and without warning, Joe lifted an arm behind him and turned on the water. It struck an unsupecting Silverman in the face. Joe jumped from the shower and ran for Frank's room. Silverman grabbed at Joe, but he eluded the hand reaching for him.

Frank looked up from his book as Joe opened the bathroom door and ran into his room, his face a mask of terror. Frank leapt to his feet and screamed for help as Silverman burst into the room on Joe's heels.

Silverman decided it was better to run and come back later than take on all the boys at once, so he ran from Frank's room and raced for the stairs, knocking Chet and Tony down as he ran between them.

Phil, who had just started up the stairs, was grabbed by Silverman on his way down and dragged outside to the brown truck which he drove.

Silverman opened the driver's door and shoved Phil inside, getting in after him. He shoved the truck into gear and took off down the street. Phil tried to get Silverman to slow down by hitting him, but he pushed Phil back into the door.

"Look kid, I got cheated out of Joey just now and someone has to pay the price," Silverman told a paling Phil. "You will just have to be his substitue."

"NO!" Phil shouted, and tried to open the door. He was going to jump out of the truck no matter how fast it was moving.

"YES!" Silverman shouted back, his voice jovial as he reached over and backhanded Phil. Phil fell back onto the window, cracking it as he slipped into darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

When Phil awoke, the truck had come to a stop somewhere on the outskirts of Bayport. Silverman had parked the truck off the road behind some trees and bushes. Phil opened his eyes as he felt the door behind him give way and he fell backward.

Silverman caught Phil before he fell to the ground and dragged him a few feet further into the woods before shoving him to the ground and sitting on his stomach.

Phil started to scream, but Silverman grabbed Phil's throat with one hand and ripped his shirt open with the other. Phil started pounding on Silverman's chest but to no avail.

Silverman traced an invisible line from Phil's navel up to his neck. He put his lips against Phil's ear, causing Phil to start trembling as he felt Silverman's hot breath. "You know something kid?" Silverman asked. "You aren't my type."

Silverman sat back up and pulled at Phil's throat forcing him to assume a sitting position. "Pass a message to Joey for me, would you?" he asked, leaning closer and whispering into Phil's ear. Then he brought back his fist and hit Phil with a left hook, releasing him as he did so. Phil fell backwards, unconscious.

As Silverman took off out of the bedroom, Joe collapsed sobbing into Frank's arms. Biff took off after Silverman, stopping before he tripped over Tony and Chet.

"He took Phil," Tony told Frank as they entered his bedroom a minute later. He and the other boys came to a halt as they saw Frank sitting on the floor holding his naked brother as he shook and cried.

Frank looked up at his friends, his face covered in tears. "Call the police and tell them about Phil," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Chet, use dad's office phone and call Dr. Bates," he ordered, giving the name of their family doctor. Doctor Bates usually didn't make housecalls, but he had conceded an exception years ago in the Hardys' case when Fenton Hardy had saved the life of his child after she had been kidnapped.

Before the doctor or the police had arrived, blond-haired, blue-eyed, petite Laura Hardy and blond-haired, brown-eyed, Vanessa Bender, Joe's seventeen-year-old girlfriend, arrived at the Hardy home. They came inside and went up the stairs after seeing no one downstairs.

"Frank, Joe, Fenton?" Laura called out as she and Vanessa climbed the stairs. Tony and Chet came out of Frank's room and met the ladies at the top of the stairs.

"What is it?" Laura demanded, seeing the sad expressions on their faces.

"Silverman came back," Tony said quitely. "Joe..." he began but Laura rushed past him and into the bedroom. Vanessa started to follow, but Chet grabbed her arm. "He isn't dressed," he said stopping her.

Vanessa's eyes began to water and she bowed her head. "How is he?" she asked softly.

"Not good," Tony admitted.

Inside the bedroom, Biff had helped lift Joe onto Frank's bed and cover him up before Laura had entered the room. "Baby," she said softly, crying as she came nearer. She sat down on the bed opposite of the side Frank now occupied. She reached out to touch him but he whimpered and snuggled in closer to Frank.

"What happened?" she demanded, looking at Frank through bleary eyes.

"He was hiding in the shower," Frank said. "We were all here and that bastard got to him anyway," he added, feeling helpless and riddled with guilt because he hadn't gone into the bathroom with Joe.

"Did he...." Laura couldn't bring herself to finish the question.

Frank shook his head slightly. "I don't know. Joe won't quit crying and his throat was hurt, he can't talk."

Tony poked his head in the doorway. "The police and Dr. Bates are here," he said.

Phil came to with a start. He jerked to a sitting position and looked around. He took a deep breath and looked up at the sky thanking God for letting him be okay.

He slowly rose to his feet, thinking about how Joe must have felt when that creep had attacked him and actually did things to him. Phil shuddered at the thought. Poor Joe! Phil thought. How was he ever going to recover? Phil stumbled through the woods to the highway, seeing no sign of the truck or Silverman. He took stock of his surroundings, then turned to his right and headed back into town.

"Well?" asked Laura, jumping to her feet as Dr. Bates came down the stairs from having seen Joe.

"I gave him a sedative," said the balding, middle-aged man as he came closer to her. He looked down at his feet for a moment, trying to think of the right words to say as Frank and Sergeant Con Riley, a dark haired man in his mid-twenties, and one of Frank's and Joe's friends came over. Biff and Tony were upstairs with Joe and would not leave the room until someone came to relieve them.

"What?" Frank demanded when Dr. Bates never said anything more. "What's wrong?"

"From what Joe could convey to me, his attacker didn't have time to penetrate Joe's anus with his penis, but he used his finger and...and..." Dr. Bates voice broke. He didn't know how to continue, but his tone and demeanour conveyed to them what had happened.

"Oh no!" Laura gasped and sank back onto the chair, her hand covering her mouth as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. Vanessa and Chet, standing nearby heard what was said and began crying too. Chet sank onto the sofa, and buried his face in his hands. "We were here," he moaned. "This shouldn't have happened."

Con's radio flared and static filled the air. Con acknowledged the call and looked at the Hardys. "Phil was just picked up by a patrol car on Shore Road," he informed them.

"Was...was he?" Frank tried to ask, but Con shook his head.

"He was battered and bruised, but he said Silverman didn't do anything to him," Con replied.

"Thank God," Vanessa said softly.

"He was taken to the hospital and his parents are going to pick him up," Con added. "We have an APB out on the truck he was driving now."

Frank nodded, 'Thanks, Con," Frank said, trying to control his emotions.

"Now what?" Chet asked.

"I don't know," Frank said, sitting down on the sofa beside him. "I just don't know."

"Vanessa, why don't you go home?" Laura suggested. "Joe will probably sleep until tonight."

"I would rather stay, if you don't mind?" Vanessa asked. "I can't leave Joe now. He needs to know that everyone still loves him and nothing can change how we feel about him."

Frank smiled at Vanessa. "Thanks," he said gratefully, sniffing a little.

"Of course you can stay," Laura said. "You are always welcome here."

"I'm going to go upstairs," Vanessa said. "I want to be there when Joe wakes up."

They watched her climb the stairs. "Where is your father?" Laura asked Frank, her tone taking on the tough sound she used when she got angry.

"He went to check out Silverman's address," Frank replied.

"He is still on the case?" Laura exploded, her eyes flashing in anger.

"He was going to quit, but Joe begged him to stay on it," Frank defended his father.

"He shouldn't have taken it in the first place," Laura declared, her lips curled into a snarl, reminiscent of a mother bobcat protecting her young. She swallowed her anger and stood up. "I'll make some sandwiches," she said and headed into the kitchen, afraid she might say something she shouldn't. Her anger was at her husband, not her son.

Half an hour later, Laura came back into the living room with a tray of sandwiches. "There is another tray in the kitchen," she told Frank and Chet. "I am taking these upstairs to the others," she added, starting up the stairs.

Chet got up and went into the kitchen as a knock sounded at the door. Frank went to see who was there. He opened the door and Phil stepped inside. He had a busted lip and a swollen eye, but it was his expression that worried Frank the most about his friend.

"Are you okay?" he demanded in concern. "Con said he never..."

"He didn't," Phil told him. "But he told me to pass on a message to Joe," he added, looking miserable.

Frank swallowed. "What was it?" he asked, afraid to know, afraid not to.

"He said to tell Joe that whenever he was alone, no matter how safe he thought he might be, he wouldn't be," Phil said, his voice breaking as he spoke. "He said he would always be around waiting for his next oppurtunity."


	8. Chapter 8

By the time Joe awoke that evening, Fenton had returned home. Chet, Biff, and Tony had left for the evening but Vanessa had decided to stay the night. Fenton had sent the others home when Frank insisted on having Joe sleep with him.

Tony had helped Frank set up the alarm system which had not been in use for some time. It had been disconnected by burglars on a previous case of Fenton's and had not been repaired. Now, after their friends had left and every section of the house had been searched, the alarm had been turned on.

When Joe awoke, he was surprised to find Vanessa sitting in a chair beside his bed and everyone else gone. He sat up, breathing heavily and looked around.

"It's okay," Vanessa said, moving over to sit beside Joe on the bed. "Your alarm system is on and your mom, dad, and Frank are downstairs." She gently pushed him back onto the bed and moved a lock of his blond hair from his forehead.

Joe looked away from her and lowered his eyes, too ashamed to look at her. "It's okay," she said again, her heart going out to him. "I love you," she said when he never looked back at her. He still ignored her.

"You can ignore me if you want to, but I'm not going away," she told him. "I love you and nothing is going to change that."

Joe slowly turned to look at her, tears falling from his hurt filled eyes. "Oh, baby," Vanessa said, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his forehead. "I love you so much."

"How could you?" Joe rasped, his voice worse than before.

"How could I not?" she demanded softly, lifting his chin so he could not turn away from her. She stared into his eyes as she spoke. "You're sweet, kind, gentle, strong, loving, caring, giving and brave."

"No," Joe said, his voice so low, Vanessa had to strain to hear him although he was speaking as loud as he could. "I'm scared and weak," he argued. "I couldn't get away," he added, crying harder. "I..." he tried to say more, but couldn't get the words out.

"Oh, baby," she cried. "There will always be someone stronger somewhere. And you have every right to be scared," she told him, smoothing his hair back as she held his face close to her breast as a mother would a newborn child.

"But..but I'm...I'm dirty," he admitted. "I shouldn't have let him. You shouldn't be near me..."

"You didn't let him," Vanessa told him sternly. "He hurt you but it was in no way your fault." She lifted his chin again. "How would you feel if it were me who had been violated?" she asked him. "Would you think any less of me?"

Joe's eyes widened, shocked she would think he might think such a thing. "No, never," he whispered hoarsely. He gave a watery smile as he realized what she was trying to tell him. "You think I'm being stupid," he said.

"No, just human," she replied, leaning down and kissing his forehead. "Want me to yell for Frank?" she asked.

"Please," he rasped.

Vanessa kissed him again and went to the bedroom door, which had been left open and shouted for Frank. "Frank, Joe wants you!" she screamed.

Frank was there in a minute. "Hey, little brother," Frank said softly, coming over and sitting beside Joe.

"Hi," Joe rasped.

"No more talking," Frank ordered sternly, getting back up and going to his desk and opening a drawer. He removed several pens and notepads. He handed one of each to Joe and gave the rest to Vanessa. "Would you please put a set in every room in the house?" he asked her. "If he doesn't quit trying to talk he is going to damage his vocal cords."

"Of course," she agreed, accepting the materials. She threw a smile at Joe and left the room.

"How are you feeling?" Frank asked Joe.

Joe started to open his mouth but saw the look in Frank's eyes and wrote something down then handed the paper to Frank.

"I feel dirty," Joe had written. "I want a shower."

"Okay," Frank said, knowing this was a common trait of rape victims. "I'll get you some clean clothes out and check the shower, then I'll wait in the bathroom while you take it, okay?"

Joe smiled gratefully at Frank, glad he understood Joe's fear without him having had to put it into words. Joe's stomach twisted into knots as he entered the bathroom. He wondered if he was ever going to feel safe again. Twice he had been attacked in his own home. This was supposed to be the safest place there was, but now, he knew such a place didn't exist.

Frank waited for Joe to finish his shower. He could hear Joe scrubbing his body, wincing because he knew the shower wasn't going to make Joe feel any cleaner. It was psychological. He knew it. Joe knew it. But until they could come up with a way for Joe to get over his fear of this man and what he had done to Joe and threated to do still, then Joe would never feel safe or clean.

Frank wept silent tears for his brother's lost innocence. He knew Joe would never be the same carefree, fun-loving, risk taker he had been. He was scared to find out what Joe might yet become if he didn't find an outlet for this nightmare. He heard the water stop and quickly wiped his tears away as Joe wrapped a towel around him and stepped out of the shower.

Joe gave a Frank a wan smile as he saw him keeping vigilance on top of the closed toilet. He looked down and then back at Frank. Understanding Joe's need for privacy as well as protection, Frank stood, turned around and shut his eyes. A few minutes later, Joe tapped Frank ont he shoulder. Frank turned to find Joe fully dressed except for socks and shoes.

"Let's go downstairs," Frank suggested. "Dad is home and mom was fixing dinner when I came up." Joe nodded and the two brothers went downstairs.

Vanessa was sitting on the sofa trying to ignore the argument taking place in the kitchen. She had turned on the television to try and drown out the noise, but Laura's distraught voice kept piercing the air.

Joe looked at Frank then turned and started for the kitchen. Frank started to follow, but Joe turned and shook his head. Frank didn't know what Joe was going to do but he wanted to do it alone, so Frank went and took a seat near Vanessa.

When Joe entered the kitchen, his parents stopped arguing and Laura ran over to Joe's side and gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek. "Hi, Baby," she said, leading him over to the table and sitting him down near a tablet and pen. "Did you get some rest?"

Joe nodded and picked up the pen and paper. He scribbled something down and handed it to his mother. She read it with clinched lips and looked at her son. "I know it is his job," she told Joe. "But we are his family and he has to learn that we are more important."

"Which is why he has to find this guy," Joe wrote and handed the sheet of paper to his mom.

"If he would drop the case, you would be fine," Laura tried to tell Joe. "He won't bother you anymore."

Joe shook his head and wrote for a couple of minutes then tore off the sheet and handed it to his mother with a pleading look in his eyes which broke her heart. She began to read what Joe had written, out loud, so Fenton could hear it too.

"Dad had to take the case," Joe had written. "If he hadn't, then this guy might have killed every teen who even remotely resembles me where he was and then move on to the next town, this one, and I would have gotten attacked anyway."

Fenton put a hand on Joe's shoulder as Laura read the note. Joe stiffened briefly but forced himself to relax as his mother continued reading. "Now, Dad has to find this guy. He said he would come back and even if he doesn't, I will always be afraid he might. If Dad doesn't get him, I will never feel safe," Laura ended, crying.

"Oh, Baby," she said, coming close and pulling Joe to her as she cried. "I'm sorry. You're right," she admitted to Joe but looking at Fenton through tear filled eyes. "Your father has no option to find him."

Fenton wrapped his arms around his wife and son, but Joe stiffened and started hyperventialting. His parents backed up. "Easy, Son," Fenton said. "We aren't going to hurt you. You're alright."

Joe noddded, his breathing starting to slow back down. "I'm...." he started to apologize in a whisper but Laura put her fingers over Joe's lips.

"No talking until your throat is better," she ordered him. "And don't you dare apologize for being afraid," she added, sternly. "You never have to apologize for something that isn't your fault."

"And nothing this bastard did to you is your fault," Fenton stated, looking into his son's eyes. "You have to remember that. You have done nothing wrong. You aren't being punished by us or God for anything."

"Then why?" Joe wrote.

"I don't know," Fenton said. "But I know someone who might be able to help you understand," he added.

Joe looked at his father questioningly. "The rape center?" Laura asked.

Fenton shook his head. "Oh, maybe," he admitted. "But, I was thinking of Father O'Malley."

Joe tilted his head in question. "He is the priest at St. Fransis across town," Fenton said. "He has talked with rape victims before and is a very kind and understanding man." Fenton looked at Joe, his brown eyes soft. "Would you like to talk with him?" he asked.

Joe held up the pen. "That's okay," Fenton said, smiling. "He can read." Joe nodded. "Good," Fenton said. "I'll see if he can come over tonight."

Laura kissed Joe's forehead. "Why don't you go and get your brother and Vanessa?" she asked him. "I'm ready to put dinner on the table now."


	9. Chapter 9

After dinner, Fenton called Father O'Malley who promised to come right over and talk to Joe. It wasn't long before a short man, barely five foot six, arrived at the threshold of the Hardy home. His red hair, or what was left of it, hung limply around his forehead and his brown eyes had a sparkle of kindness and sympathy as he was introduced to Joe.

Fenton, Laura, Vanessa, and Frank left the two alone in the living room, although Frank stayed in the kitchen with Vanessa in case Joe needed him. Fenton and Laura went upstairs to get the beds ready for the evening.

"How are you feeling?" Father O'Malley asked Joe.

Joe shrugged his shoulders. Father O'Malley picked up the notebook and pen from the table and handed it to Joe. "I understand this is a hard time for you," he said, sitting down near Joe but being careful to keep a safe distance so as not to casue Joe to have a panic attack.

"Your dad said you were having a problem dealing with what has been done to you," Father O'Malley said after Joe had sat quietly, not writing or trying to speak.

Joe bowed his head and wrote something down on the notebook, then ripped off the sheet and handed it to him.

"Ah, Joesph," Father O'Malley said. "I know it is hard. But I am sure your father has already told you what was done to you was not done because of anything you did or as a punishment. Evil exists," he continued. "And evil's sole purpose is to harm good. You and your family have proven yourselves to be some of the goodest people in existence. Of course Satan is going to try and hurt you in any way he can."

"Why?" Joe wrote.

"I can't answer that," Father O'Malley said. "God works in mysterious ways," he added. "It would be presumptious of me to assume I knew why these things happen. What I can tell you is that your are a strong, brave, caring, and loving young man. Whatever has happened to you, whatever will happen to you in the future, God does love you as do your family. No one and nothing can take that love away from you. And as long as you have that, then nothing that happens to you can really harm you. You will overcome."

Joe listened to Father O'Malley talk to him for a little longer but didn't participate in the conversation except to nod or shake his head in answer to a question. He knew, deep down, that he was right, but he still felt scared and alone. If God loved him so much, then why had He let this happen to him? It made no sense.

Soon, Fenton and Laura returned from upstairs and thanked Father O'Malley for coming over. Frank and Vanessa came in and Laura went to make Joe some honey tea before bed.

The next morning, Joe accompanied his family and Vanessa to church. He had thought about what Father O'Malley had talked about all night, not having been able to sleep. He still didn't understand why this was happening to him, but he was beginning to realize that O'Malley was right. He could handle this, eventually. He was a survivor and he was not alone.

After church, they all returned home and had lunch. Vanessa stayed and played a game of Monopoly with them before returning home. Joe slept in Frank's room again and passed the night peacefully. Not even one nightmare.

The next day, Joe came downstairs ready for school, much to his family's surprise. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay home for a few days?" Laura asked him.

"That sounds like a good idea," Fenton agreed. "Stay home, get some rest."

"I've had rest," Joe wrote. "Only my throat is still hurting."

"Joe, it would be safer if you stayed home," Frank told him, saying what his parents wanted to.

"I have to go to school," Joe wrote. "If I stay home because I'm afraid, then he will have won."

"No one will have won," Laura told him after Frank had read the note.

"If I live in fear, then he still has control over me," Joe wrote. "I won't allow anyone that kind of control over me."

Frank read the note aloud and smiled at his brother with pride. "Way to go, Little Brother," Frank told him, giving him a hug. "But until this guy is caught, I insist on some precautions."

"Like?" Fenton asked, in total agreement.

"I'll call the guys and make sure Joe doesn't get left alone," Frank said, getting up from the breakfast table and going to the phone. He called Biff and told him Joe was going to school but he needed to be watched.

"Definitely," Biff agreed. "I'll call Phil and Tony and tell them to meet us outside the main door ten minutes early," he said. "We can plan a schedule then."

"Thanks," Frank said. "I'll call Chet."

"What about Vanessa and Callie?" Biff asked. "Joe has one class where Callie is the only one of us who has it with him."

"I'll call them too, but we will still need to get someone to go with Joe there and back," Frank said. "Callie couldn't handle this guy. Neither could we, actually, but we could long enough to get Joe away." 'I hope,' Frank added silently.

"Okay, see you at school," Biff said and hung up.

While Frank called Chet, Laura made Joe some more honey tea. "Thanks," Joe rasped, his throat a little better, but still sore and his voice still a mere whisper.

"No talking," Fenton ordered Joe. He looked at Laura who nodded her head and took the notepad and pen and wrote a note for Joe's teachers. "Here," he said, giving the notpad back to Joe. "Show this to each of your teachers as you enter class," he instructed him. "No talking until your throat is better."

Joe smiled and nodded his accpetance of the order. Then Frank returned to the table with his backpack and Joe's. "Let's get going," he said to Joe. "We are meeting everyone out front."

Joe stood up, took his backpack, and gave his each of his parents a small hug. He tried not to stiffen when they hugged him back, but when his father put his arms around Joe, he couldn't control the momentary laspe of fear which registered. Frank told his parents bye and the two boys left for school.

When they arrived, their friends were waiting on them. "Hey, Joe," Phil said in a soft voice. "How you doing?"

Joe gave him a little smile and a nod to indicate he was okay. "He still can't talk," Frank said for his brother, then looked at Chet. "You have Algebra with Joe first period, right?" Chet nodded. "Okay, you can walk Joe to class and then after take him to History."

"And I can take him to Chem class after that," Callie offered.

Frank looked at her. "You need to keep an eye on him in history," he told Callie, "but, well, it's nothing personal, but I would feel better if Biff came and walked him to his next class."

"This guy is really strong," Phil told her. "Joe needs all the protection he can get." Joe swallowed at his words but never made any indication to the others that they had affected him. Joe was starting to wish he had stayed home.

"Okay," Biff said. "Joe and I have chem together any way. After that we'll go to lunch together and plan the rest of the day there," he suggested as students started walking past, slowing down to see what the pow-wow was about.

Joe was bombarded by curious looks in Algebra when he never spoke, but Chet told everyone he had laringytis. By the end of class, Joe had been forgotten and everyone was complaining about having homework. Chet walked Joe down the hall to history where Callie stood waiting by the door.

They went inside and a few minutes later, the bell had rang and the teacher was deep in discussion about the second world war. So, it came as a total surprise when an explosion ripped throughthe wall, blasting the teacher forward and onto the desks of the students in the front row. The place was on fire.

The fire alarm sounded and two students helped the teacher up, who had been dazed, but otherwise unhurt, and out of the room. They all started out of the room, with Joe and Callie bringing up the rear. As they passed the room on the other side of the blast, they heard someone crying. Joe and Callie rushed inside and saw a student, a freshman, lying trapped under a shelf which had fallen over from the blast. They went inside and Joe lifted the corner of the shelf as Callie pulled the girl from beneath. Another explosion as flames hit the chem lab, and most of the building was now on fire. Joe motioned for the two girls to precede him out of the room and down the hall.

As they passed another room, this one farther away from the fire, an arm snaked out and encirled Joe's waist as he passed the door. Callie and the other girl were too far away to hear Joe's whispered shout of "Help!"


	10. Chapter 10

Joe tried to scream again as he was dragged into a class room by Silverman, but his voice was so low, he couldn't even hear himself over the sound of running feet. Silverman laughed at Joe, grasping his throat again and pushing him into the wall. "I told you I would be back," he said.

Joe hit Silverman on the side of the head with both hands, as he had done in his parents' bedroom and lifted his knee, ramming it into Silverman's groin.

"You're going to pay for that one, pretty boy," Silverman growled. Raising his hand and making a fist, he brought back his arm and swung at Joe. His fist connected with Joe's jaw and Joe slumped in Silverman's grip, unconscious.

Frank saw Callie and another student come running out of the school and went over to her. "Where's Joe?" he demanded, as his other friends came over to join them.

Callie looked behind her. "He was right behind us," she said, her eyes wide.

Frank took off running inside the building with Chet, Biff, Phil and Tony on his heels. Principal Dylan saw them heading back into the school and ran over to stop them, but Callie got in his way. "They went after Joe," she told him as Vanessa ran over to join her.

Principal Dylan frowned, but accpeted that they would not leave the building without him. The fire department arrived and the principal came over and informed them that there were at least six students still inside the building.

Everyone watied and watched as the firemen entered the burning building. Soon, five of the missing six were escorted out by firemen and oxygen masks were placed over their faces. The fire was brought under control and a search was made for Joe, but he was no where to be found.

Frank sat on the ground with his friends, the oxygen mask in his hand beside him on the ground. Tears rolled down his face as he realized Joe had been kidnapped. Silverman's name floated in his head as he cried. He had failed to protect his brother and now, he might never see him again.

When Joe awoke, he saw a ceiling covered in the brown spots which accompany leaks. He tried to move, but his hands were bound to a metal rail headboard and one of his ankles had been tied to the bottom. One ankle had been left free and Joe could squirm a bit, but he could not get loose.

He looked around at the room he was imprisoned in. The paint was peeling and there was an old table in one corner and a chair near the bed he was lying on. He could see mouse holes along the base of the wall and knew he was in a house which had been deserted for some time.

Silverman walked into the room as Joe lay back on the bed, trying to twist his wrists out of the ropes. "Hello, darling," Silverman said to Joe.

Joe looked at Silverman, not in the fear which had been consuming him recently, but in anger. He had burned down the school, endangering the lives of all the students, just to capture him. The man was truly insane.

Silverman came over and sat down beside Joe. He reached over and brushed the hair from Joe's eyes, smiling down at him as he did so. "Have a nice rest?" he asked Joe.

"Let me go," Joe whispered. "I'm not Miller."

"No," Silverman agreed. "But you are like him. So popular, so good looking. You think the world owes you everything," he said, stroking Joe's cheek. Silverman's face was hard. "No, you aren't Miller and neither were any of the other boys I raped and killed. But you have so much in common with him, you could have been."

"So you are doing this to me because of what I look like?" Joe rapsed. "Doesn't who I am count?"

"Of course it counts," Silverman said. "That's why I haven't moved on to any one else. Your old man thinks I should be punished for punishing you sick twisted boys. You, who would take a small child and do those things, and he thinks you should be allowed to be left alone to do it again."

"I would never do anything like that," Joe asserted. "I don't hurt people."

"And you never will," Silverman said. "You need to feel what it's like have that kind of thing done to you. You deserve it. Then, you have to die so you can't hurt anyone else."

"I never hurt anyone in the first place," Joe declared in a hoarse voice as loudly as he could. "Only Miller did and he is dead."

"He got away," Silverman decalred angrily, his eyes shining. "He was never punished for what he did. I won't let anyone else get away with doing that to another child," he vowed. "That is why I am taking care of you personally. You will suffer for your crimes and then you will die."

"I haven't committed any crimes," Joe said, trying to get through to the man.

"But if you got the chance, you would," Silverman stated. "I can't allow that."

"But..." Joe started to argue some more, but Silverman had grown tired of the discussion. He grasped Joe's throat and squeezed, leaving him no air.

Joe opened his mouth, trying to take in air, but none could seep through. His vision grew blurry as he gasped but no relief was given. When everything started to go dark, the pressure was released from his throat and Joe took in several deep breaths. His throat was so sore, he couldn't even utter a whisper.

Silverman reached down to the first button on Joe's shirt and pulled it off. Joe tried to squirm away, but Silverman just kept taking the buttons off Joe's shirt, tossing them to the floor as he did so. Soon, Joe's shirt lay wide open.

"You know," Silverman said, as he put both his hands on Joe's chest. "I don't enjoy doing this, but I do enjoy the pain and suffering you go through. You deserve it and so much more," he added, running his hands all over Joe's exposed skin.

Joe's eyes begin to tear as Silverman reached for Joe's belt. He unbuckled it and unsnaped Joe's jeans. A quick zip and then he started to pull them down. "Oops," Silverman said. "Can't get them over the ropes, can I?" he asked.

Silverman reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his switchblade. He flipped it open and brought it up to Joe's shirt, slicing through the sleeves until Joe was freed. Then he pulled the shirt from beneath him and tossed it onto the floor.

Next, he came down and slit the side of Joe's jeans. Then the other side. He pulled them out from under Joe and tossed them to the floor on top of the shredded shirt. Then he cut the briefs off of Joe, leaving his flesh open to view.

"Now, your punishment begins," Silverman declared, a maniacal light in his eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

The police had arrived shortly after the fire engines but the friends had been too in shock to notice. ÝNow, Frank stood up and went over to one of the officers and reported Joe's kidnapping.

"You mean this fire was set as a diversion to kidnap Joe?" the officer asked in disbelief.

"I don't know," Frank admitted. Ý"He may have just taken the oppurtunity the fire afforded, but it is a possiblity."

"Are you okay?" the officer asked him. ÝFrank nodded. Ý"Then go home and wait for a call. ÝWe'll put out an APB on Joe. ÝThere is already one out on Silverman and his truck."

Frank gritted his teeth because there was nothing more he could do here, but nodded and turned and walked back to his friends. ÝHe told them what the officer had said and the group headed for the parking lot. ÝIt had been decided by the friends as Frank talked with the officer, they would all go over to the Hardy home. ÝIf nothing else, they would provide moral support for the Hardys.

When they arrived at the Hardy household, Laura was sitting in the living room crying. ÝThe police had called and told them about the fire and Joe's abduction. ÝVanessa and Callie went over to her and escorted her upstairs to her bedroom. ÝBut when she got to the doorway, Laura couldn't go inside.

"I..I can't," Laur cried. Ý"Joe was attacked by that...that..." she was so upset, she couldn't continue. ÝThe girls led Laura into Frank's bedroom and let her sit on Frank's bed.

Downstairs, Fenton and Frank heard Laura's cries and protests about entering her own bedroom. ÝIt struck Frank how brave Joe had to be to have gone back in the bathroom after Silverman's attack. ÝFrank looked at his father, wanting him to say everything was alright and Joe was already home.

But he never. ÝFenton put an arm around Frank's shoulders and led him to the couch. Ý"The officer said Silverman's truck was seen earlier this morning on Shore Road."

Frank perked up at this. ÝIt was too much of a coincidence that the truck had been seen there this morning and that was where Phil had been left. Ý Maybe he was hiding on Shore Road. Ý

Joe scooted away from Silverman, his body quivering in fear. ÝHe knew what was going to happen to him. ÝThere was no one to rescue him this time. ÝHe tried to ignore his surroundings as Silverman reached out and stroked Joe's member.

"Very nice," Silverman said. Ý"But you aren't paying attention to me," he added, his tone hard. Ý"I guess you need a lesson in manners first, hmm?" Ý He grabbed Joe's free leg, and turned Joe over as far as he could, providing a good view of Joe's rump. Ý

Silverman rubbed his hand over Joe's ass, then brought back his hand and smacked it. ÝHe repeated the stroke several times. ÝJoe bit his lip and clinched his eyes as he felt the heavy strokes against his skin. ÝSilverman didn't like this response and quit striking Joe. ÝHe released Joe, allowing him to roll over on to his back. Ý"Doesn't hurt, huh?" Silverman demanded of the quiet boy.

Silverman grabbed Joe's ankle and untied it. ÝThen he released Joe's wrists. Ý Joe scampered to a sitting position in the corner of the bed and stared at Silverman, wondering what he was planning on doing now. Ý

Silverman unbuckled his belt and removed it from his waist. Ý"Stand up," Silverman ordered Joe. ÝJoe shook his head. ÝSilverman brought his arm back and snapped the belt against Joe's left arm. Ý"Stand up," Silverman ordered again. ÝJoe swallowed and slowly got off the bed.

"Grab your ankles," Silverman ordered. ÝJoe stared at him disbelief. ÝDid he really expect Joe to cooperate?

Silverman snapped the belt at Joe three times in rapid succession. ÝJoe felt the leather mark his stomach, causing his wound from the other day to begin burning. ÝThen, almost immediately, he felt another stroke of pain along the side of his leg. ÝA third stroke from the belt marked his cheek. Ý Tears sprang to Joe's eyes as he felt the bruning pain associated with each stroke.

"Grab your ankles," Silverman ordered again, in the same calm tone. ÝJoe swallowed and reached down and grabbed his ankles. ÝHe closed his eyes as the first stroke was delivered across the tender flesh of his backside. Ý Silverman kept up a steady rhythm for seveal minutes. ÝJoe released his ankles and jumped upright as the leather belt made contact with his scrotum. ÝHe reached down and grabbed his balls in pain, forgetting about the burning on his backside. Ý

"Back over," Silverman ordered. Ý"You aren't finished yet."

"Please?" Joe begged inaudibly. ÝSilverman saw the plea form on Joe's lips although no sound came out.

"Until you can do as you are told, no matter where you are hit, then you keep getting your lesson," Silverman stated. Ý"Grab your ankles."

Joe swallowed Ýand reaced down and took hold of his ankles again. ÝSeveral more minutes of being spanked and then he felt the belt strike his balls again. ÝHe fought to control the pain soaring through him and remained still, holding onto his ankles as tears streamed down his face. ÝAnother strike from the belt, this time hitting his bare legs. ÝAnother on his already bright red ass, and one more, this one striking his balls again. ÝStill, Joe did not stand upright.

Silverman lowered the belt and let it fall to the floor. ÝHe stepped closer to Joe and rubbed Joe's bright ass. Ý"Very good," he congratulated Joe, running a finger inside of Joe's butt and twisting it around. Ý

He pulled his finger out and dropped his own pants. Ý"Ready?" he asked Joe, stepping out of the pants as they fell around his ankles.


End file.
